


War Times

by Writer_of_Words88



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 1940s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Double Agents, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Original Character(s), Pining, Protective Crowley, Secrets, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover, War, World War II, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:42:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_of_Words88/pseuds/Writer_of_Words88
Summary: How did Crowley find Aziraphale in the church in 1941?The answer is finally here!---"I take it you are the owner of this establishment."Aziraphale snorted. He would not give up his darlings without a proper fight. "Oh, no, not me. I'm actually the owner of an elite gentleman's club just down the way. But, I often come here in my downtime to pilfer through these books and cause their owner a great deal of grief and frustration."---





	1. Double Agent

**Author's Note:**

> Good Omens FanFic Timeline:  
Pre-Canon:  
The Pharaoh’s Son – Egypt 14th Century BC  
An Angel in the Brothel – Pompeii 62 AD  
A Long Way from a Miracle – Italy 217 AD  
Christmas Special: The Church of Saint Crowley – Turkey 300 AD  
The Devil’s Favor – England 1066 AD  
War Times – England 1941 AD
> 
> Post-Canon:  
The Bachelor Party – 2019 AD
> 
> Separate GO AU FanFic:  
Halloween Special: Sleepy Hollow (Human AU)  
Ineffable Prompts  
Instagram Prompt
> 
> Hello!  
Thanks for checking out my fanfic! If you enjoy this story, please check out my other GO fics as they are all from the same universe. Kudos and comments are most welcome and very much appreciated!!! Thank you and enjoy my little slice of heaven! 
> 
> (*^▽^*)

**London, 1941**

Two people strolled into the A. Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop and Aziraphale froze with a sudden dreadful terror. His heart all but leaped from his chest at the mere sight of them. It had happened before; he could recognize them now. It had taken some time to pinpoint their distinctions, but he knew them all too well. The slightly jutted out chin, the strait-laced shoulders, and the fierce smile plastered on their lips, all brimming with confidence like they had caught the scent of prey in the air. He could almost smell the reek of greed emanating from their tailored suits. They were the worst of the worst; the beasts that roamed the planet always hungry for more, and always willing to do whatever it took to get what they wanted. 

Book buyers.

Today, it was a woman, not quite into her thirties, with a scarlet suit and perfectly pinned dark hair. Her eyes gave her away. They flashed with an unending determination. Someone had told her, Aziraphale thought with bitter regret. Someone had told her that he had whatever book she was after. 

The man beside her was a stockier build with broad shoulders and lean hips. His jaw held a hint of stubble as though he liked a bit of gruff on purpose. Something about him sent the angel’s nerves on edge, not quite alarmed, but perhaps something akin to the natural order. Like when one predator makes eye contact with another. He didn’t like the man at all.

The pair made their way over to him by the counter. Aziraphale had just finished updating his catalog with his newest additions he’d purchased from an auction. He adored his new Mary Shelley novel, signed copy, of course. 

His hands pressed over the open book as though they had just caught him with his pants down and he was attempting to cover his decency. The man smirked at him and removed his dark fedora, revealing slick black hair. “I take it you are the owner of this establishment.”

Aziraphale snorted. He would not give up his darlings without a proper fight. “Oh, no, not me. I’m actually the owner of an elite gentleman’s club just down the way. But, I often come here in my downtime to pilfer through these books and cause their owner a great deal of grief and frustration.”

The man actually laughed at that. Perhaps, Aziraphale was being a bit tetchy. The man did have a rather pleasant voice. 

The woman gave a small cough and smiled at him. “I do apologize, sir. My name is Rose Montgomery, and this is my associate Mr. Anguis.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrow at them before snapping his book closed. “No first name for you?” He flicked his gaze at the man, then removed his round spectacles and placed them on the counter. 

“Malcolm Anguis. Or, just Anguis, if you like.”

Rose extended her hand out. “It really is quite a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard all about the fascinating book collector of SoHo. You really have a truly remarkable reputation.”

Aziraphale grimaced and slid the catalog onto a shelf below the counter. “Please, I doubt I have anything quite as extraordinary as that.”

“I’ve heard,” Anguis drawled, tapping his fingers on the edge of the wooden counter, “that your powers to come by rare books are almost divine. We could really use someone like that, with such a rare gift.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at that. Whoever was spreading such rumors around about him was going to get a good tongue-lashing next time they met, he suspected the origin of his grief came from a particular wily serpent. But it had been decades since they last spoke, and it hadn’t ended well. He couldn’t help the way his brows knitted together with concern when he thought of him. They really had a rather nasty fight when they had last spoken. And, if Aziraphale were being honest with himself, he wished he could apologize, not for caring about him getting discorporated, of course, but for…other words, accusations. 

“You all right?” Anguis stood, staring at him with one of his eyebrows raised. A bit of what could have been concern played across his face. Aziraphale didn’t think he would’ve been the type for worrying over others. 

The angel forced away his past uncertainties. He didn’t need his concern for Crowley distracting him while crafty book buyers had slunk into his bookshop. “Fine, thank you. Just wondering what size book to whack over the head of the dolt spreading such rumors about me.”

Rose chuckled at him and placed a hand on his arm. “Oh, such a charmer. I had no idea the owner of such a beautiful shop had such a witty way with words.”

Aziraphale returned her smile. “Oh, well. You know. Read enough, and the words have a way of seeping into one’s life. They are quite wonderful like that. So, um, I doubt you came here for a bit of witty banter. How may I help you?”

Rose nodded to her associate, appearing excited that they were moving on to business. Yet, it made Aziraphale’s stomach sour at the thought. “Well,” she began, “We are actually here on behalf of British Military Intelligence.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale had _not_ been expecting that. He hoped he could help without, of course, selling them anything. It would probably take a miracle.

“We need your help, Mr. Fell.” Rose gave him a near pleading look. “There is a group of undercover Nazis here in London. We believe they were sent here to procure a list of books to take back to Germany. We also believe they will be in contact with you soon as your reputation is well known, even in the underground.”

“Oh, dear.” Aziraphale hadn’t thought of that either. He’d rather hoped to stay out of any war business unless Heaven requested it. 

Anguis tilted his head at him. His jovial air shifted to something much more severe. “There’s a good chance they’ll be dropping by your shop sometime this week. If you’re alright with it, we need you to play along and let us know what they are after specifically.” 

Aziraphale brightened at the prospect. “So,” he licked his lips. His eyes beamed with nearly uncontrollable glee. “You’re saying, you, you want me to be a spy?” He wiggled on the spot, bringing his hands to clasp in front of his chest. “Like in those thrilling action novels? Do I get to wear a suit? Perhaps a dashing hat for effect. Oh! Do I get a code name? I’d rather like the name Nightingale, or perhaps, something like that.”

Rose placed a hand on the counter between them. Her smile had been replaced with a lip line of worry. “Mr. Fell, this really is a serious matter. This isn’t like in those storybooks at all. There could be rather serious and dangerous consequences should you agree to help us.”

Anguis nodded at his associate. “This isn’t something to take lightly. You can’t go into it thinking it’s like a bloody spy book, or you’ll get yourself killed.”

Aziraphale deflated as he realized the truth of their words. He would still help them, of course. But what did it matter if he got himself discorporated? “It’s not like,” he swallowed away the hurt that threatened to bubble up from his throat. “It’s not like I have anyone that would be upset by it, if something did happen to me, not anymore at least.” 

Rose gave him a sympathetic smile. “We’ve all lost someone. That’s the unfortunate thing about war.”

Anguis shifted, glancing out the storefront windows. “Sorry to hear that. Did they mean a lot to you?”

Aziraphale lowered his hands and clenched the edge of the desk with his fists. He didn’t want to admit it to them, but it was none the less true. He could only ignore his rising grief and pang in his heart for so long. If years hadn’t gone by, then perhaps he could’ve lied and said they weren’t even friends, or even that he really didn’t care. But he had lost too many tears to those lies to find the energy to speak them. 

“He meant the world to me.”


	2. Truth and Honesty

Aziraphale huffed out an exasperated breath and picked up another book from the floor. “Would you be so kind as to stop placing my books wherever you happen to be standing?” He already had an arm full he’d rescued from wrong shelves and from the counter near the front of the store. “These volumes do have a proper place here.”

Anguis turned back to him. He stood near a large bookshelf next to the stairs. His gaze had been fixed on the newly acquired Mary Shelley novel. “How long have you had this one?”

Aziraphale plucked it from his grasp and glared as he re-shelved it. “It came in just yesterday, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t damage it.”

“How much?”

Aziraphale flinched at the question. He loathed it almost more than ‘do you have any copies of…?’ The angel sighed and adjusted his waistcoat. “That one is not for sale. Besides, even if it was, I doubt you would be able to afford it.”

“Ouch.” Anguis smiled at him despite the insult. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“It doesn’t make it any less true.”

The undercover spy laughed. He had stopped by the morning after their meeting, claiming to be under orders from Ms. Montgomery. They agreed to keep an eye on him until he was contacted by the other side. Aziraphale had still felt a surge of excitement at the idea of being a spy, despite the pair’s previous warnings. Besides, he thought with a sigh, it would be an excellent excuse to look for Crowley. It wouldn’t surprise him of his involvement in some form or fashion. 

He glanced at the man, still eyeing the many tomes as though he were searching for some hidden treasure buried beneath them. Aziraphale did feel a little bad for him. Life as a spy must have been so fascinating, full of danger and thrills at every turn. A bookshop must’ve seemed such a dull place to him, but that was probably because the man did not know where to seek such adventure within the book-lined walls. “You know,” Aziraphale said, walking over to a collection of crime and mystery novels. “I have a rather large collection of Agatha Christie books that might pique your interest.” His fingers brushed along the spines until he found the one in mind. 

Anguis ambled over to him, not appearing all that interested, but willing to have a look. 

Aziraphale eased out a special, leather-bound edition of _Murder in Mesopotamia_ that he had miraculously acquired, another signed copy, of course. 

The spy accepted the volume and glanced it over. “No, thanks.” He handed it back without opening it.

“Do you not enjoy reading?” Aziraphale knew the type. All action and never enough time to sit and read, especially when they could be going on the adventure instead. 

“Already read it a few times actually. I heard she’s releasing another book sometime this year.”

Aziraphale’s gaze snapped to Anguis. “You? You’ve really read this book? Did you like it?”

Anguis rolled his eyes and laughed. “I really don’t seem like the book type to you, do I? Yes, yes, I’ve read it. I enjoyed the whole murder mystery in the dig site bit and the smattering of clues everywhere. Made it almost impossible to guess the murderer. Couldn’t put it down the first time.”

“Oh. I thought so too. I thoroughly enjoyed the references to her other books as well.” Aziraphale beamed, stepping closer to him. It had been so long since he’d had an intellectual discussion about one of his more enjoyable reads. “Wait, is that why you asked about the Frankenstein novel? Did you read that one too?”

“Well, of course, I did. Anyone with any interest in words, at all, should read that one.”

“Oh, um, well. Would you like to discuss it? Over lunch, perhaps? There is a wonderful little café not far from here if you’re up for a light stroll.” 

Anguis smiled, then hesitated. His expression shifted to something that Aziraphale couldn’t quite place. He seemed almost displeased, but the wrinkles at the edges of his features vanished under the guise of another smile. “Of course. Sounds nice. Lead the way, Fell.”

Aziraphale walked over to his coat rack and slipped into his afternoon outer attire. “You know you can call me Aziraphale. There’s no need to use my last name unless it is more comfortable for you.”

Anguis followed behind him and adjusted his suit. “Names too long. Maybe just Zira. Has a nice ring to it. So, do you do this often?”

“Do what?” Aziraphale led them to the front and turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. He opened the door for them to leave.

“Well, I mean, invite people you barely know out to lunch and after a pleasant stroll together.”

The angel froze with his hand, still clutching the door handle. He hadn’t thought anything of it. It had merely been nice to have someone to talk to about literature or wine or–

“Is it, I mean, is it wrong?”

Anguis shifted uneasily where he stood. “No, I just was curious. You don’t have to answer, Fell.”

“I’m tired,” Aziraphale said as a bit of honesty leaked out. “Tired of being alone, I think. I’m not sure. I haven’t felt like this before.”

Anguis straightened next to him. His posture had shifted from relaxed to something resembling a rabbit in the sight of a rather large wolf approaching him. However, despite his apparent anxiety, he stepped closer and placed a hand on the angel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by asking. But, if it’s, I mean, if it’s alright, I was wondering, you seem a bit lonely.”

Aziraphale blinked as his eyes blurred. “I-I think I am. A bit odd, really. Silly to think I’ve never felt this way over all these years. I wonder,” he swallowed down the realization. “what changed.”

“Well, best not to worry about it. Let’s go enjoy that café, Zira. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” 

Aziraphale regained a small bit of his composure and ushered them outside. “It’s quite alright. My fault really for talking about such unpleasant things.”

Anguis walked next to him, keeping his eyes ahead, but his head down as though in thought. “Was it the person you mentioned yesterday? Did they do this to you?”

Aziraphale barked out a laugh. “I suppose I’ve really gotten myself into trouble by mentioning all this.”

“You don’t have to–”

“I don’t mind. In fact, I think I want to talk about it, some of it at least. It hasn’t helped that the only person I could talk to about it was the one I was fighting within the first place.”

“So, they aren’t dead? You are having a bit of a row with them?” Anguis still didn’t meet his eyes. 

Aziraphale considered his words before speaking. It did feel as though some of the weight on his chest did ease as he spoke. He did wonder for a brief moment if Crowley would mind him discussing some of his problems with a stranger. Of course, he wouldn’t reveal anything too confidential to the man, but perhaps a talk about it all would improve his mood or even his understanding of the situation. He bit his lip but decided to give it a try. “I, well, he and I are well. Oh, let me start again.” He explained how he and Crowley, without saying his name, just referring to him as his friend, worked at rival companies, which were family-owned, so they had been at odds their whole life. However, despite the deep-seated hatred surrounding them, they had managed to become friends over the years and rely on one another.

Their fight, which had been about Crowley asking for Holy water, had been called company secrets, which he’d asked for as insurance. 

Aziraphale huffed out a breath. “I can’t believe he’d ask that of me. If he were caught with that, they would put an end to him. I couldn’t, I mean,” he licked his lips. “Why couldn’t he just understand that I didn’t want him to die? Suicide, really? After all we’ve been through, and it’s like I don’t even matter. If there was a situation so serious as that, why not ask me to,” he paused because, really, what would he do? Would he defy Heaven to rescue Crowley? If he was being honest, he didn’t quite know how to answer that. He didn’t want to think about what Heaven or Hell would do to them if it came down to it. 

“Sounds like a real Shakespearian tragedy, if you ask me,” Anguis said, then glanced up at the shop sign. “Is this the place?” 

Aziraphale glanced up. “Oh, yes. I almost missed it. Dear me, I was going on and on, wasn’t I?”

“It’s alright.” Anguis smiled at him and opened the door. 

They had a nice, quiet lunch. Each ordered a sandwich with a side of soup. They talked a little about Anguis’ work, but it was obvious that Aziraphale didn’t want to continue their conversation, yet. It surprised him how attuned the man seemed to the angel’s moods. He knew some humans were like that, but they were far and few between. 

Anguis watched as Aziraphale finished the last bit of his soup. His brows had knitted together.

“You want to ask me something,” Aziraphale said it as a statement rather than a question. 

Anguis glanced out the front windows. “Yeah, you caught me, but it’s a bit personal, so I wasn’t gonna say it.”

“Go ahead.” Aziraphale set down his spoon and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. 

Anguis squirmed in his chair. Whatever he wanted to ask appeared to almost wish to burst from him, and he seemed to be doing everything in his power to keep it buried deep inside. But Aziraphale had given him the okay, so he sighed, letting the words spill from his mouth in a rush. “Whatdoeshemeantoyou? Your friend, I mean. Is he, is he still a friend?”

“Well, of course, he is. At least, to me, he is. I’m not so sure that’s what he wants anymore. I haven’t seen him in…years.” A century was closer to accurate.

“Well, what? You can’t ask him?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where he is. He usually has a habit of showing up when…when I most need it.” He sighed, knowing he sounded terribly depressed over Crowley’s absence.

“Are you mad at him?”

“No,” Aziraphale said with a heavy honesty. “I was at first, but that faded a long time ago. You have no idea what it’s like, to spend each day wondering if…your best friend died, wondering if he managed to get ahold of the one thing that could kill him.” His shoulders sagged. He was so tired. “However, the more I think about it, I think it was something else I said that upset him more.”

“Oh? Tell him he wasn’t the only one in your life?” Anguis chuckled at his own clever joke, but Aziraphale didn’t laugh.

“I think I did just that, in a way. I said we had been…fraternizing. It upset him quite a bit, and well, undesirable words were exchanged…and we haven’t seen each other since then.”

Anguis let out a heavy sigh and finally met his eyes again. “So, then what would you say to him, if he were here now?”

Aziraphale flinched at the thought and stared at Anguis. He already knew what he wanted to say, but to say it out loud. However, even if Heaven were watching, they wouldn’t know he was talking about Crowley. He did have a good amount of deniability. Aziraphale shifted in his seat and laced his fingers together. “I suppose I would say that I am so terribly sorry about everything. I was inconsiderate, rude, and a complete bastard. I know,” he cleared his throat, feeling it start to tighten. “I know you might not want to speak to me anymore, but,” his voice had begun to quiver. “I just wanted to say that you always were my best friend, even if I wasn’t one back. I’m so sorry, my dear.”

Aziraphale started as Anguis rested a hand over his laced fingers. The man had lost any of his cocky nature and appeared much more serious than he had before. “I don’t think he blames you either, and if he does, then he’s a bloody wanker.”

The angel huffed out a small laugh and removed one of his hands away, dabbing the napkin at the corners of his eyes. “That’s very kind of you to say.”

“Suppose it is, but I did mean it, Zira.”

Aziraphale smiled as Anguis squeezed his hand. A small part of him wondered, dared if he should say more. Just a little more couldn’t hurt, right?

Yet, before he could form the words, the windows at the front of the door exploded inward as bullets blasted through the air.


	3. Too Many Truths, Not Enough Lies

The world around them exploded in a sea of bullets. 

Aziraphale yelped as Anguis slammed them to the tiled floor. His mind raced as lights burst overhead, raining down a shower of sparks. The angel’s hands trembled, and he clung to the man shielding him from the lead-filled pellets of death. Anguis dragged them under the table. The heavy musk of gunpowder stung Aziraphale’s nose and chipped away at the inviting lunchtime scent of baked bread and tea. 

He knew discorporating would be a massive amount of paperwork, possibly enough to keep him away for a century. And he couldn’t have that. Not when Crowley was still unaccounted for and, knowing him, still determined as ever to get his hands on Holy Water. 

Anguis pinned him down, angling his own body against the oncoming nightmare. He cursed and reached for the holster under his jacket. He shouted something, but Aziraphale couldn’t hear him over the cacophony of lead, turning the shop into a slice of swiss cheese. Anguis gripped the gun, and his eyes locked with Aziraphale. The angel could sense the uncertainty lurking in their depths. 

Aziraphale had to help; he couldn’t let him die because the angel fancied playing a spy like some bloody idiot. His muscles relaxed, smothering away the churning dread that twisted his spine. 

He didn’t like shifting his mind back to the time before the Garden. A time that had been cold and calculating; and a time free of fear, but also free of love. It had almost reminded him of a cage. Heaven’s expectations were each a different lock, keeping him in place, with the promise of divine purpose as its key. But now, he needed that unquestioning discipline. He needed to shelter those around him from his foolish actions. Aziraphale snapped his focus to the world around him.

Cups and dishes exploded, sending showers of glass and ceramics raining down around them. Aziraphale could hardly think with the thunder of gunshots roaring into the tiny shop. Nonetheless, he sent out a small miracle, shifting the bullets away from the owner and few other patrons. 

Anguis snarled, appearing eager for the spray to let up. Aziraphale could see his near manic state with a vengeful gleam in his eyes. 

Despite the reprimand that would be no doubt waiting for him after returning to the bookshop, the angel knew he’d feel awfully guilty getting the man protecting him killed when he’d been the one to suggest the lunch outing in the first place. Aziraphale flicked out another miracle, shielding the agent. 

The peppering of lead ceased, leaving a dull hum ringing in their ears. Aziraphale blinked, trying to concentrate. He had no idea if his assailants would leave or dare to enter the shop and finish what they started. 

Anguis sprang up, aiming his gun at the door. His face had twisted into a snarl of outrage as though the mere thought of being attacked had insulted him. He held his gun at the ready and fled out into the street. His coat swirled out behind him as he raced after their assailants.

Shouts soon replaced the fading rumble, still echoing in his ears. Aziraphale shook his head once and rose, then winced. He glanced down and slipped a hand to his side. His fingers came back, slick with crimson blood. “Oh, dear.” 

Aziraphale shrugged off his coat. No need to stain more clothing than necessary. He had kept that particular coat in tip-top condition for a near-century. His mind hazed under the waves of pain shooting up his side. He knew he needed to get back to the bookshop before any more undesirables had a go at him. Aziraphale grunted, gritting his teeth against the agony and stood. 

He glanced at the humans around him. A family of four cowered near the counter, and, other than looking dreadfully shaken, they seemed no worse for wear. The young woman behind the register was shouting at the men in the kitchen, asking them to call the police. No scarlet splatters stained the walls, and no wails of lost loved ones haunted the air; it was worth it if only one angel had been injured.

Aziraphale leaned against the table, now dotted with bullet holes, and groaning under his weight. He stumbled for the door. He had to leave; he wouldn’t let anyone else into the line of fire, even if he had no idea why someone would want him dead. But first, the world needed to stop spinning.

Anguis appeared in the doorway, muttering curses, then his eyes fell on the angel’s side. Any hint of growling rage vanished under a sheet of white. His eyes widened in horror. 

“Fuck, you’re bleeding!”

Aziraphale blinked once more as the world started to tilt. “Not to worry.” Some part of his brain realized his words had begun to slur, but it didn’t seem too important. “Really, dear. It’s all tickety-boo.”

Anguis lunged forward, catching Aziraphale before he fell. 

Music filled the air and brought some measure of stability as Aziraphale blinked his eyes open. He recognized the song, of course. Beethoven’s  _ Moonlight Sonata _ drifted over him as it had countless times since its creation. He enjoyed the melody, quite a bit actually, but only listened to it on occasion as he feared it would become dull if heard too often. So far, it had ceased to do just that and only bring a sensation of grounding to his life. 

Aziraphale blinked again, and the haze floating over his eyes waned. He was in his bookshop again, which meant it was his gramophone playing out the soothing tune. He was a bit surprised to find himself propped on his small couch with a soft tartan throw draped over him. 

The angel flinched, remembering the sandwich shop, then groaned at the soreness aching in his side. Aziraphale tossed off the blanket and glanced down at his bare chest. His waistcoat and shirt had been removed and replaced with a winding bit of gauze wrapped around his belly. His side throbbed but didn’t feel quite as dizzying as before. The bandages appeared void of any bloodstains, which, he thought, was a good sign. 

“Hello?” he called.

Something clattered in his kitchenette area in the back, and Anguis vaulted over a stack of books, sliding to a halt in front of him. “Zira, you okay? Don’t get up yet.” He eased forward, kneeling in front of the couch, and examined the bandages. His fingers glided over the sensitive spot at his side. “Are you…in any pain?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, I think I’m okay. What happened?”

“Fucking bloody wankers! Should’ve known that if the Nazis were involved, then this wouldn’t be easy.”

Aziraphale stared at him. The man’s before slick hair had curled down into his face, and his all-too-suave arrogant smile had crumpled into a crinkled line of worry. 

The angel rested a hand over Anguis’ fingers. “Not to worry. I am a bit tougher than I look.”

Anguis let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, thank…someone. Least it wasn’t deep. Bullet probably grazed you early on. It should heal on its own in a few days. I,” Anguis stood with his eyes cast away. “That shouldn’t have happened, not on my watch.”

Aziraphale eased up, attempting to make sure and not reopen his wound. He spied a medic kit open with bits of gauze and thread draping from it. “I’m quite all right. There is really no need to fret.”

“I’m not fretting. I’m just…” Anguis scowled, then paced around the room. “Spoke to Rose while you were asleep. She’s heading things down at the diner. Says she has an idea behind the bastards responsible for this.” His eyes flicked to the angel with a sigh. “She said it was a miracle no one died.”

Aziraphale gave him what he hoped was an innocent look. “Well, thank the heavens, it all ended well.”

“Oh, it’s not over yet. The Nazis and this new group still want you, and they seem willing to kill to get you, or to make sure no one else does.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “Does that mean they knew you were there with me?”

“Not necessarily. Not many know of my, eh, true allegiance. Most have heard the name Anguis in more German-speaking circles, so they probably thought the bastards already had you in their claws. I don’t know for sure. Not enough to go on yet. We’re not even sure who they are much less what they want.” He huffed out an exasperated breath, slowing his stride. His face tightened, and Aziraphale recognized the look that plagued him.

“There’s something else. I can see it in your face.”

The agent’s shoulders sagged, and he met his stare. “Yes, there’s more. I didn’t want to say anything because it’s dangerous, but knowing you, I’m sure you’d end up there no matter what I did.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he should be pleased or taken aback. The implication remained that this man knew him within less than forty-eight hours, which seemed highly unlikely. Yet, if he were a spy for British Intelligence, then reading people would be a necessary skill in his line of work. 

“Rose mentioned a black-market auction going on tonight at some rich broad’s place. Said it would be somewhere a rare book dealer might find himself. Could be a way to lure out the Nazis intel. And…”

“And find out who shot at us.” Aziraphale started to stand from the couch. 

Anguis ground his teeth, then snatched his hat off the nearby stack of books. “Guess there’s no point in telling you to stay here and let me handle it?”

“Not a chance.” Aziraphale had found himself in the middle of the mess, and he’d be damned if he didn’t get to the bottom of it, hopefully not in the literal sense. 

The hours passed by faster than the angel had expected. Anguis had made sure Aziraphale rested the entire time leading up to their drive to the auction. It hadn’t been quite as bad as he had worried. The British agent seemed more than willing to make him tea or bring him a new book once he’d finished reading. Though, he’d never admit it was kind of enjoyable having someone dote on him throughout the day. It also made him worry that the man blamed himself for Aziraphale’s state, which of course, was far from the truth. 

The drive to the estate was pleasant; however, with each glance his way, Aziraphale became more certain the agent was going to be insufferable in the night ahead. 

“Agent Malcolm Anguis, if you do not stop blaming yourself for my state of being, I will snatch one of your driving gloves and slap you with it.” 

His mouth fell open. “What? I haven’t been—”

Aziraphale rounded on him. “I have been injured, yes, but I chose to help. So, if you’d be so kind as to stop internally berating yourself for no reason, then I’d like to know the specifics of this event. I am just as anxious as you to catch those responsible for this afternoon’s deplorable attack. So please, we are in this together, and if you feel you can’t rely on me this evening, then perhaps you should just wait in the car until the auction has ended.”

The agent remained silent for a moment before the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Suppose that means you have me all figured out?”

“Quite so.” Aziraphale adjusted his bowtie and lapels. “Are you ready to treat me as a comrade, instead of some incompetent bystander?”

“Well, I mean, you did get injured in your first shoot out, but I guess not everyone can live up to my outstanding reputation.”

Aziraphale tutted and glanced out the window, hiding his faint smile. “You are insufferable.”

“Oh, now. That’s one of the things you like about me.”

Aziraphale’s brows knitted together at that. Their shared familiarity and intense experiences were not all too uncommon for the angel. Granted, it usually was never directed at him, at least most of the time, but in his previous cases, Crowley had always been there with him. And yet, he was still no closer to discovering what the demon’s plans. 

“You okay?”

Aziraphale snapped back from his thoughts. “Quite. Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

Anguis nodded and turned them onto a winding side road. Light glowed over the near horizon of trees. “Your friend again?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, if you must know. There’s a possibility he will be here tonight, given the nature of things. I’m just not sure if I’ll be relieved or worried.”

The agent snorted out a laugh. “Think he’ll be that much of a bastard?”

“No.” His voice came out just above a soft whisper. “Just the opposite, in fact,” he huffed out a laugh. “At least with me, or…he used too. I honestly don’t know anymore.”

Anguis glanced at him. “Told you before, if the guy’s still mad, then just tell him off and forget about him.”

Aziraphale forced out a small chuckle. “I couldn’t do that, not ever. Well, perhaps I would exchange words with him, but I couldn’t ever forget him. Not even if I wanted to, I imagine.”

They sat in silence as they neared a large stone wall that lined the driveway. 

“Do you?” Anguis asked as he turned onto the drive. 

“What?”

“Do you  _ want _ to forget him?”

“Never.” The words left his mouth before his brain could catch up, but Aziraphale knew it was no less true. 

They parked the car among a sea of exotic and probably expensive automobiles. Aziraphale didn’t like the quiet that seemed to surround them after their talk. His stomach fluttered a bit as though his nerves knew something he didn’t.

“Why did you ask? I mean, why did you want to know if I wanted to forget him?”

Anguis shrugged and stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him. “Doesn’t matter.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and exited the car, strolling over to him. “Well, it matters to me.”

Anguis blinked, then turned for the front doors. “I was just curious, Zira. No real reason.”

“Agent Anguis, how am I supposed to trust you if you keep lying to me?”

This had the desired effect Aziraphale had been hoping for as the man spun to face him.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t lie to you, not when it matters.”

Aziraphale clasped his hands behind his back. “All of it matters. I am here under your pretenses, however genuine or not those could be, and so far, I’ve been hunted down and shot at, and obviously, the worst is still yet to come. If we are adding lies to that list, then I don’t know how much longer I can continue to trust you or your associates.”

Anguis stepped closer, and his voice hissed out in a low whisper. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to say that it’s personal? That I personally want to know what you think about that friend of yours? That I’m jealous of how much time you…” He paused, seeming to realize his words and their implications.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “So…you are jealous…of him?”

“Something like that.” Anguis turned away. “I lied because now is not the time to talk about it. Not sure if ever will be the right time.”

Aziraphale hesitated. He was out of his depths in this area. Perhaps not answering him at all would have been the wisest course of action. Yet, the years and years of being separated from Crowley had made him feel as though he were drowning, as though as hint at a lifeline thrown his way would save him from the murky undertow of his grief. “All right.”

Anguis snapped his gaze back to him. “What?”

“All right. I…I do want to talk about it, but you’re right, now is not the best of times.” Aziraphale brushed passed him. His veins seemed to burn under his skin. The angel apparently had stepped over the edge of some invisible cliff, and he had no idea if he would fly or plummet into a pool of bubbling acid. He hoped this new territory would surely not be the death of him. 

A man in a dark suit stood by a pair of large french doors. He seemed to be greeting guests as a couple before them breezed through the doorway. 

The estate stood at least three stories in height with glittering lights lining the windows. The exterior charm housed various luscious plants, dotting with color in the endless green. Vines crept up part of the weathered, but well-maintained stone manor. It was the closest thing to a castle the angel had seen this era. 

Anguis followed him inside, and Aziraphale could sense the man’s eyes on him, unwavering and sending shivers down his body.

Aziraphale huffed and turned to remind him of their mission, then froze. His eyes locked onto a tall, dark-haired woman. Despite having never met her, he’d seen drawing, sculptures and heard the many tales countless times. Power radiated from her like rays of frozen moonlight. Without glancing at the agent, Aziraphale whispered, “Well, this is unfortunate.”

Anguis stepped closer. “What? What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth but knew he couldn’t explain it. The one so powerful that thousands of stories had been made in her honor, one so ruthless, so clever, that the realms of fairy and human quivered in her wake. Angels knew of her, of course, but there had always been an unspoken rule to keep clear from the other, and tonight, tonight could quite possibly shatter six thousand years’ worth of peace. How was he supposed to explain to a human that the Queen of Air and Darkness, Queen Mab herself, had spotted them and was walking toward them with a slow, purposeful stride?


	4. The Book

Aziraphale inclined his head in a formal bow as the woman stopped before them. She was tall, almost taller than the angel himself, though her stature alone easily towered over him. He could see why so many humans had crafted stories of the Fae Queen. Her lips were sculpted with divine care and shaded with a stunning scarlet hue. The raven black of her hair and eyes shimmered under the lights, glittering with more allure than a dragon’s treasure horde. 

“Well, well,” she purred, eyeing them each in turn. “I didn’t expect to see either of you here tonight.” She turned to Aziraphale. “The bookshop owner with the miraculously keen eye for first editions.” Her gaze flickered to Anguis. “And the wolf in sheep’s clothing with the blackened heart of gold. I must say that while seeing you both is unexpected, I am not surprised to see you in one another’s company.” 

Anguis shifted his weight under her stare. Aziraphale couldn’t blame him for feeling apprehensive. Anyone under the gaze of one of the fairy queens would feel a bit nervous no matter the reason. 

Aziraphale tried to alleviate the pressure on his companion. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam. I did not realize that our host was one of such esteem and grace. Please forgive the ignorance of your humble guests. We can only hope to live up to the expectation of a perfect example of graciousness under the circumstances.” He bowed once more and caught the hint of a smile in her eyes.

“Such a clever and courteous being. However, given that you are a being of grace, I will undoubtedly see an example of this as my guests. Please help yourself to the refreshments. I must see to my other…attendees.” Her piercing gaze turned to Anguis once more before she glided away. 

Aziraphale let out a staggering breath. He had gambled with their lives with his words, and it had paid off for the time being. And, with how his companion’s eyebrows had creased together, Aziraphale doubted if Anguis had any idea of how close to death they could have come from his little stunt. 

“What just happened?” Anguis asked without his stare leaving their retreating hostess. 

“Please believe me when I say you don’t want to know.” He spied a server carrying a tray of champagne flutes. “I do believe I need a drink.” He adjusted his bowtie and waved for the server.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

Aziraphale accepted the flute, then offered it to the agent before retrieving his own. “Quite perceptive, my dear.” He swallowed it before the server could step away, then snatched another glass. “Let’s simply leave it at ‘we are safe for now,’ though tomorrow may be an entirely different matter.” 

“And why’s that, Zira?” The agent sipped at his drink.

“You won’t let this go, will you?”

“Not a chance.” Anguis gave him a sly smile that glittered in his gaze.

Aziraphale huffed out a breath and took another sip of the bubbly drink. “Very well. Without going into too much detail, let’s just say I simply arranged for, well, that is to say,” he paused, nibbling at his lower lip. “Well, I may have worded my response to ensure our sanctuary if it all goes pear-shaped with, um, well, if you must know, that woman is effectively the leader of one of the oldest Fae—oh, I mean, families in the world…” He finished off his second glass.

Anguis stared at him in silence for several heartbeats before downing his own champagne. “So, uh.” The agent slid a hand across his mouth, removing any beads of bubbly that may have spilled from the corners. “Are you saying that…what? We just sided with the mafia? That if the Nazis show up to gun us down, we have an ally? Do we owe them anything now? I mean seriously, Zira, what the fuck?” He groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “Shit.”

Aziraphale tutted at him. “Really, dear. I didn’t see you coming up with any better ideas. You’re the spy”—Anguis shushed him, so he lowered his voice— “I didn’t see you negotiating our safe passage from here tonight, so _someone_ had to do something.”

“Fine, fine. Just, I don’t know, try to let me know before you entangle us into anyone else’s web of murderous mayhem.” Anguis glanced around the room. “This is an auction, right? Let’s see if we can find the dusty, old books and get on with it.”

Aziraphale handed off his empty glass to a passing waiter, then laced his fingers behind his back. “Of course. But I doubt they will be dusty. Just because something is old, does not mean it’s any less pristine or useful.”

Anguis smirked as they wound their way through the crowd of dazzling dresses and perfectly pressed suits. The air around them hummed with a steady stream of power. Aziraphale tried to ignore the sensation as it sent his mental alarms on high alert. They were stuck inside enemy territory in more than one sense. He knew if Heaven caught wind of him anywhere near the place, he’d probably get called into questioning for the next century. 

They found the books after meandering through two large rooms. The first had showcased valuable jewelry, some Aziraphale had glimpsed over a millennia ago. The second room had live video feeds of exotic animals that were caged no doubt in some back holding-area away from guests. 

He gasped as they entered the third room. Rows of ancient books rested in multiple display cases along the walls. He placed a hand to his chest as he eyed a variety of first editions that he would be eager to take home. However, he noted their exorbitant price and sniffed. 

Even if he could miracle up that amount without a problem. He knew he could find them at a much more reasonable price in time. Though, he supposed that was to be expected. He could wait until the end of the world for the books, whereas humans did not have the same luxury. 

His gaze flitted over to a case at the center of the room. One that had gathered quite a large crowd, in fact. Aziraphale wound his way over to get a look at the spine or nameplate. It took a minor miracle to ease himself to the front of the throng of gawkers, but he could instantly see why that book, in particular, had gathered such a large following. 

Aziraphale stared at the cover, unable to draw his gaze away from the leather-pressed words. He realized his corporation had stopped functioning and promptly restarted it once more. His fingers itched to trace along the bands of the spine. It appeared to be in immaculate condition, which made him doubt its authenticity. However, if it was featured in an auction under the Queen of Air and Darkness herself, then it had to be either genuine or a very, very good fake. If that was indeed the case, he almost prayed for a quick death for whatever fool tried to deceive her. He wouldn’t have wished her wrath on Satan himself. 

“Looks like something you’d see in your shop,” Anguis remarked, appearing next to him. 

Aziraphale licked his lips and eyed the lot number. “You have no idea.”

Anguis raised an eyebrow. “You going to bid on it?”

“Oh, yes. And I suspect I will need to explain myself once all is said and done. The ang—well, my family will be curious as to why I used a large portion of my funds to purchase such a thing of little value in their eyes.”

“So certain you’ll get it.” Anguis smiled, then placed an arm on his shoulder. “We should move on for now.”

Aziraphale frowned, pulling his gaze from the book and glanced at the agent. Anguis was staring past him, and his features had hardened, creasing at the edges. His grip on Aziraphale’s shoulder, while not painful, had firmed with a possessive squeeze. Something had triggered his instincts. 

Aziraphale followed his eyes and spotted a pair of men standing in the corner of the room. One was tall and lean with a smile that showed more teeth than necessary. The other man was shorter, with comfortably plump features, yet his eyes remained vague and distant. It reminded the angel of an aquatic creature. One with quite a few teeth and a distinct hunger for bloodshed. 

“Nazis or unknown third party?” 

Anguis squinted, then glanced away. “Could be either. My money is on the former.”

Aziraphale didn’t want to part with the book. He had searched for it for ages, centuries even. Despite the rumor that no copies had ever been sold, he hadn’t given up the hope that maybe one had been floating around. Of course, he had heard of fakes, plenty of second-hand book dealers couldn’t tell the difference between a forgery and a fig tree, but Aziraphale could spot the slight imperfections with practiced ease. And this time, he’d found no such imperfection, no flaws apparent from the outside that could giveaway the origins of the book. 

He would simply have to purchase the copy and see for himself; however, then he would need to decide if he should inform Queen Mab should he find any discrepancies. Perhaps, that could wait until he came to that dilemma. 

He glanced more at _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter_ before gliding off to the auction hall. The book would be his even if it took a few miracles to get it.


	5. A Fallen Angel

Aziraphale nibbled at his lip as they sat for the auction. Anguis settled next to him, lounging with one ankle resting on his knee and his arms propped behind the chairs. His eyes scanned the room as Aziraphale tried not to imagine the unsavory sorts that wanted their hands on the book. What he wouldn't give for it, and yet, the ancient tome left his mind as a flash of red hair caught his eyes.

He stood at once, almost stumbling on his chair legs. It had been a long shot to expect to see the demon there, but he knew it had always been a possibility. His pulse thudded through his veins at the thought of seeing those golden eyes again. Aziraphale already knew what he would do if it was indeed Crowley. He would apologize as many times as it took for the wily serpent to understand that he'd only denied him something that would kill him. Aziraphale was a selfish angel, but he also knew he would trade it all just for a chance to speak to him. Maybe he could explain, or at least—A hand on his arm caught his attention.

"Hey. Something wrong." Anguis had stood as well, eyeing the guests.

Aziraphale blinked and glanced back in the direction of the auburn hair. A lanky man strolled through the doors, but with a dark beard and lacking a certain demonic flare. So, not Crowley.

The angel all but collapsed back into the chair and covered his face with his hand. "No. Sorry. It was nothing." He couldn't remember a time he'd felt so foolish. Perhaps the whole business with the apple, but then again, at least something good had come from it. His body ached, weariness he believed they called it. Such a dreadful feeling. He peeked out from between his fingers, realizing Anguis still held his arm.

Aziraphale glanced up at him. And despite Anguis's intent to continue scanning the crowd, a new line creased between his brows.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Really, my dear. I'm fine. You needn't worry so. You should be more worried regarding yourself than for me."

"Oh? That so?" Anguis raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying it's completely fine that you lack any semblance of concern for your own life, or that it's fine that you jump at the sight of any redhead that walks into a room? Which, I'd venture a guess is a quality shared with this mysterious friend of yours that abandoned you all those years ago? But yeah, I'm sure you're just fine. Let's all just ignore the fact that you jump out of your skin every time you think he's here because it's completely normal."

Aziraphale huffed and removed his arm from under the man's hand to adjust his tie. "For your information, I do, in fact, care about my life, and as for him, he didn't abandon me. I," he swallowed down the truth that caught in his throat. "I'm getting no less than what I deserve. I was a horrible friend, so even if he did leave, I don't blame him. I don't think I ever have." This human was too good at getting under his skin. What he really needed was a nice glass of wine once he was safe at the bookshop again.

"Aziraphale." Anguis stared at him. His fingers now rested on the angel's hand, and all the pretenses of professional detachment flew out the window. But he didn't pull away quite yet, it was too difficult to be cross with the man when he stared at him with such blatant sadness in his eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Aziraphale let out a quiet sigh. "Let's just say it wouldn't be the first time I was a disappointment. I knew," he hesitated, loathing the reality in his next words, "when we met, I always knew, who would be the one, in the end, to mess it all up. I tried. I tried very hard to not do that to us, to him, but in the end, I'm still the one who...who made the first mistake. He was always too good," he chuckled to himself, "too good for me, even if he'd never admit it." He licked his lips and pulled his hand away. "It looks as though the auction has begun. We should pay attention."

Anguis stared at him a bit longer before facing the stage. He was quiet, more so than usual. Perhaps he knew what Aziraphale meant as well. Their whole mission had seemed cursed from the beginning all because the angel had to go and get peckish. He willed his corporeal form to behave. It wouldn't do them any good if his eyes misted over and he couldn't see the blasted pieces for sale.

"You're wrong, you know," Anguis whispered, leaning closer to him to be heard over the announcer.

Aziraphale huffed and glared, turning to face him. The human and his irritating notion that he had any idea about who Aziraphale was needed to stop. Yet, when he opened his mouth to tell him as such, Anguis pulled his hat from his head. He shielded them from the few possible onlookers from behind and pressed his lips against Aziraphale's mouth. It was quick, terribly soft, and left lingering pulses of love shifting around them.

Aziraphale stared at him with his mouth open. He sputtered unsure of whether he was more upset or bewildered by the man's boldness. However, whatever tongue-lashing he had planned for the agent would have to wait as he realized some of the guests had started screaming. His darting eyes fell on a group of men bursting into the spacious room. Guns, again with the guns.

"Oh, dear."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!! I'm so sorry for the radio silence for so long. A lot has been happening here and needless to say, a major cause has been a bad case of writer's block. There has been too much chaos for my brain to calm down enough to push through until recently. I also had to have emergency surgery and get my wisdom teeth removed, which didn't help the writing problem, but the pain is gone and I'm ready to write again! 
> 
> I hope to update each story weekly until they are completed, but I do want you to know that even if things get a bit crazy again, I will finish every story. Again, I'm sorry for the hiatus. 
> 
> Thank you so much for the wonderfully supportive comments and likes! ^_^


	6. Surrender or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Agent Anguis find themselves at gunpoint from a suspicious group ready to burn the world down if they can't get their hands on a certain rare bookshop owner.

Anguis groaned, splitting his lips into a sneer, “Not again.” He snatched Aziraphale’s arm and dragged them down below the top of the chairs. “Crawl to the car if you can find an opening. I’ll hold them off.” His hand seized the gun tucked into the holster under his coat. 

The angel stared as the men in dark suits and guns had begun shouting for people to raise their hands. 

“There’s no need for anyone to get hurt,” a man near the stage called out. He wore a pinstripe suit with dark hues, presumably to hide the bloodstains when scenarios called for such actions. He wore a white tie with a black symbol stitched into the bottom of the fabric. It was a symbol Aziraphale recognized with ease.

“Oh, dear. What are they doing here?”

Anguis flicked his gaze back to him. “What? Who? Do you know them?”

Aziraphale nodded once. “Yes, well. I may have read about them here and there. I think I even have a few books on them back at the bookshop.”

“ _ Great _ ,” Anguis hissed. “You can get their autographs after we get the hell out of here. Who are they and what do they want?”

The man with the gun stepped onto the stage and shoved away the announcer who stood dumbfounded, still holding onto the mic. The gunman snatched it from him and scanned the audience. His eyes squinted against the spotlights. “We’re here for the bookshop owner,” he snarled, glaring into the crowd. “Give him up, and you can all return to your boring, mundane lives.”

Aziraphale blinked, then straightened his bowtie. “Well, I suppose that answers part of your question. For the first part, if the symbol on their necktie is any indication, they are a part of the Illuminati.”

“I don’t care who they are—”

“But, didn’t you just ask—”

Anguis tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s arm. “I don’t care because they aren’t going to lay a finger on you. We’re getting out of here.”

The angel had seen similar situations countless times over the years. It wasn’t ideal, but he knew the best way to ensure the humans safety. He did loath agreeing to accompany such brutish ruffians. Not to mention, he had a reasonably good understanding of what to do in these situations, given it wasn’t even his first or even hundredth time he’d found himself behind enemy lines. However, during those times, more often then not, he had been rescued by a certain sauntering demon. One who had always quietly delighted in coming to save the day (despite how much he tried to deny it). His heart fluttered in his chest at the thought, betraying him to his desire to see that lean, red-headed mischief-maker once again. 

Aziraphale eased Anguis’s arm from his coat sleeve. “My dear, I need you to trust me this time.” He forced out a calm smile. “You must get these good hu—people to safety. Everything will be,” he cleared his throat in a poor attempt to ease his frantic heart. “Everything will be tickety-boo, in the end.” He started to rise.

Anguis clawed at his arm, desperate to keep him hidden. “No! No _ no _ no _ no _ , you bloody idiot. Sit down before they see you,” his eyes were wide and pleading, despite the command laced in his words. 

Aziraphale couldn’t think of too many alternatives to make the man release his grip, short of instilling a bit of divine will. He didn’t think that would go over well at all. He leaned forward and whispered, “In my bookshop, there is a stack of books dedicated to decoding the whereabouts of the Illuminati headquarters. The one they will take me to would probably not be far from here. Gather your men and give me a day to figure out what they want.” He tilted his head and kissed the agent’s cheek. His skin held the barest prickle of stubble and smelled of rich pine from an aftershave that Aziraphale found rather pleasant. “Trust me,” he whispered, and stood, finding the man had released his grip. 

“I’m here,” Aziraphale announced, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt and coat. “You can call off your men now.” He side-stepped Anguis’s attempt to drag him back and made his way to the aisle. 

The gunman pointed his weapon at the angel. “Hands up, and don’t try anything, or these nice folks will stain this lovely wood floor.”

Aziraphale scoffed and held his hands up as he wove his way toward the stage. Movement caught his eye, and he noticed a half dozen other men slinking in the same direction toward the front of the room. The few he could see had sleek, long hair and slender forms that moved without a hint of sound. However, he knew before spying them what they were; it was their essence that caught the angel’s attention, and his eyes widened in surprise. 

The Fae.

Perhaps it hadn’t been a bad thing to humbly invite himself to be a guest under the dark queen’s house. 

The Illuminati men raised their weapons, catching on to the few shifting through the crowd. “Stand down! Last warning.” The gunman trained his weapon on the Fae guard closes to Aziraphale. He appeared young, probably only a few hundred years old with a slight twitch in his expression. Possibly the most the angel had come to see one of them express open hostility. 

A familiar figure stepped onto the stage behind the gunman. She appeared like a sudden gust of wind found at the forefront of a gathering storm and stepped from behind the veil of curtains. It gave the impression that she had snuck on stage from some hidden backroom. However, with the power in the air, Aziraphale wouldn’t have been surprised if she had materialized herself. 

“Gentlemen, as the lady of this house, I will return the honor and give you one last warning in return: leave this place now, or,” she smiled without an ounce of pleasantness touching her features, “we will carry you out in pieces.”

The Queen of Air and Darkness stood at her full height and stared down the men with a gaze that made even the angel shiver. He never wanted to find himself at the receiving end of such a cold gaze. 

The gunman spun, facing their host, and leveled his weapon at her. “Last mistake you’ll ever make, bitch.” 

Aziraphale strongly disagreed with his sentiment; moreover, if only the man had known who he attempted to stare down, he might have reconsidered. But before he could open his mouth—the gunman opened fire, and the room erupted into chaos.


End file.
